Mi Ángel de la Guarda
by Everlasting Faerie Light
Summary: Despite her budding, exuberant curiosity, Lalia never asked about her mother. Antonio was thankful. He did not like to dwell on the pain and confusion of his last moment with Lovina before she had disappeared. However, that didn't stop Antonio from wishing. And hoping. And praying. Praying that she would come and find them. -SpainXfem!Romano, papa!Spain, mama!fem!Romano
1. Quiet and Peaceful

"Papa! Papa!"

Turning swiftly at the sound of the voice, Antonio's eyes fell on the small, waddling toddler as she raced across the small schoolyard toward him, her little legs working enthusiastically. A large grin spread across the Spaniard's face at the sight of his little angel in all of her perfected glory as he knelt down and spread his arms wide open.

"Lalia, mi poco tomate," he called out in response, ignoring the mixture of both strange and endearing looks from other parents. After all, he was too invested in his baby girl to give them the time of day.

With her dark curly hair bouncing around her plump cheeks, her large green eyes twinkling, and her face split into a bright gap-toothed grin, the little girl finally flew into his arms, a small giggle escaping her lips as she wrapped her arms around the Spaniard's neck, content with her excellent day at kindergarten and eager to share all of the day's adventures with her father.

After maintaining a firm, yet gentle grip on her, Antonio hoisted her into the air before resting her on his hip, staring down into her eager face, unable to resist that adorably angelic face of hers.

"Look what I made, papa. Mrs. Collins taught us how to make paper flowers today in arts and crafts."

The five-year-old girl held up a rather elegant looking purple paper flower, literally thrusting it in her father's face with enthusiasm, eager to witness his reaction. Yes, Mrs. Collins did do a lot of the more difficult folding for her, but she had picked out the color of the paper, as well as curled the petals all by herself!

With a chuckle, he examined her handiwork with genuine appreciation. "It's beautiful, querida. Why don't we use some of that rainbow yarn I bought yesterday and use it to hang it in the living window for everybody to see. That sounds good, si?"

Hoisting her up to maintain a better grip on Lalia, he turned his back to the school and made his way back to the car. The little girl nodded fervently, her eyes shining as she agreed whole-heartedly with this plan. Her papa really was the best papa in the world. "Si! Everybody will think it's pretty!" she burst out vibrantly, admiring the paper flower in her hands once again, her little fingers trailing over the petals ever so delicately.

"I'm sure they will. And if they don't, then they have absolutely no taste!" he said with a certainty, finally locating his car in the cramped parking lot. Setting Lalia down so that he could locate his keys, he gave her a little wink as he unlocked the vehicle and swung the back door open.

"Do you want to buckle yourself, or do you want papa to help you?" he asked her.

The little girl made a face at him, as if his question was absolutely ridiculous. "I can do it myself! I'm a big girl." With that, Lalia climbed into the car and sat herself in her booster seat, managing to work the buckle with ease as she locked herself in, pulling on the belt to ensure security just as her father had taught her.

Antonio chuckled, amused at her slightly stubborn, independent demeanor before closing the door and walking to the driver's seat.

Once he had shut the door, he started the car, looked over his shoulder to avoid collision, and backed out of his parking space, heading out of the lot and onto the road.

It was a Friday afternoon.

Antonio always looked forward to Friday afternoons. He had weekends off from work, and he used that time to stay home and spend time with his daughter.

It was just the two of them, living in a small, isolated rural town of Lowell, Oregon. It had been exactly five years since Antonio had moved from the large, vibrant city of Barcelona, Spain to one of the most discreet locations in the United States of America, and though that seemed like a long enough time to adapt to a new culture and customs, the Spaniard still had a lot to learn.

Thankfully, Lalia was flourishing, as this was the only life she knew. The child was intelligent, creative, and open to new experiences, as well as appreciative of different cultures given the fact that she spoke Spanish with her father at home, but experienced the American lifestyle when out and about. They both lived in a cozy house situated right at the edge of the woods. It was quiet and spacious, yet located in a convenient pocket of area, allowing them to have internet and cable access. Though, Antonio limited Lalia's television time to an hour of cartoons on Saturday mornings, and only one program on schooldays. He wasn't a fan of television and sometimes wondered why he bothered to purchase one in the first place.

Their life was fairly simple. He made a fair amount of money working at a hardware store on the weekdays, spent Friday afternoons and Saturdays with Lalia, and then attended church on Sundays. Quiet, innocent, peaceful. No chaos, no drama, no pain. For the most part.

There was a large piece of the puzzle missing.

It lurked in the back of Antonio's mind with dark, venomous persistence. It haunted him, berated him, tortured him. No matter how much he enjoyed himself, a part of his heart was missing, stolen by a certain, feisty, foul-mouthed Italian woman.

An Italian woman he had fallen in love with when he was seventeen and she was fifteen.

An Italian woman who had given birth to his child out of wedlock only five years ago when she was eighteen and he was twenty.

An Italian woman who had disappeared two weeks after the birth of their daughter without an adequate explanation.

He couldn't even say her name in his head without wincing.

Despite her budding, exuberant curiosity, Lalia never asked about her mother. Maybe it was because she was too young to worry about such matters. Maybe it was because she was afraid to ask. Maybe it was because she sensed that the topic was out-of-bounds. Whatever the reason, Antonio was thankful. He did not like to dwell on the pain and confusion of his last moment with her before she had disappeared, never to be seen or heard of again.

However, that didn't stop Antonio from wishing…

And hoping.

And praying.

Praying that… that she would…

That she would come and find them.

Shaking his head, Antonio quickly pushed these thoughts aside, deciding that he'd save them for his nightly reflection on the porch when Lalia was asleep, staring up at night stars and listening to the crickets croak their never-ending song.

As he drove down the winding road, he made sure to take it easy on the curves, as Lalia had inherited his motion sickness. Glancing at his daughter through the rear-view mirror, he smiled at the sight of her gazing out the window at the passing trees, mouthing the words to a song she must have learned today in the music class.

"What do you want for dinner, querida? Would you like me to make something, or do you want to go to town and eat somewhere?" he asked. It was Friday after all. Fridays provided ample opportunity for enjoyment. Maybe after they ate, they could go for a stroll at the park and feed the geese. Antonio would just have to remember to bring that old bag of bread he had left in the pantry.

"Can we go to Mazzi's?" she asked, mispronouncing the name of the restaurant ever so slightly. She looked at the back of Antonio's seat with wide, emerald eyes that were identical to her father's, expectant and on the edge of her seat, waiting for the Spaniard's answer.

Antonio contemplated the option as he drove. It was a Friday night, and Mazzi's was fairly popular despite the fact that it wasn't well heard of. On Fridays, there was usually a ridiculous line… but it was usually worth it in the end. Plus, the food was very delicious and Lalia happened to be in love with the mini pizzas they served there. Deciding that the wait would be worth it, Antonio grinned at the little girl through the rear-view mirror once again.

"Of course. Let's just stop by home and grab some bread. We can go feed the geese afterwards and maybe get some ice cream."

Lalia squealed in excitement at this plan. It was a rarity for her to get ice cream; she usually got vanilla ice cream with extra chocolate sauce on top while her father settled for a classic single scoop of strawberry. Then, they would sit outside in the nearest plaza and enjoy the sunset, not caring that their ice cream was melting, sticky as it dripped all over their hands.

Once Antonio had pulled into their driveway, (which, in all honesty, couldn't really be considered a proper driveway given the uneven ground and the copious amounts of trees, leaves, and twigs) he set the car in park, took the key out of the ignition, and opened his door, waiting at the side for Lalia to unbuckle herself, knowing that she would be insistent on doing it herself. Her stubbornness reminded him sorely of her mother.

Lalia hopped out of the car, careful to not trip over her own feet as she shut the door firmly and bounded up the small door of the house.

"Can I unlock it, papa?"

"Why don't you let papa do it this time," Antonio insisted.

"Pleeeeaaassseee? I know how to do it. I swear."

Unable to resist the look she gave him, the Spaniard sighed and reluctantly handed the keys to Lalia, who snatched them with determined enthusiasm, her little facial features scrunching as she put the key into the keyhole and turned with as much strength as she could muster, first turning it the wrong way, but then realizing her mistake and correcting herself. With a click, Lalia let out a satisfied breath and handed the keys back to her father with a satisfied look on her face.

"See? I told you that I could do it."

Chuckling, Antonio ruffled her curls (which she had inherited from him). "I should never have doubted you. Now, let's hurry. Why don't you grab the bread from the pantry and wait by the door? I need to check up on a few things."

Agreeing enthusiastically, Lalia bounded off toward the kitchen. Antonio watched her go, a small sigh escaping his breath before he made his way to his room, which happened to be located on the opposite end of the house… which wasn't really saying much given the small size of the structure.

He entered his room, which was really nothing spectacular. It was a cozy, rectangular space with white walls, a decent-sized bed with a few layered comforters, a few family photos, and one single desktop computer… the only computer in the house. Antonio ever truly used it for purposes of contacting his family back in Spain. Lalia wasn't allowed to touch it unless for educational purposes.

However, making sure to be as quick as possible, the Spaniard closed the door quietly behind him and made his way to the computer, quickly switching it on. While he was waiting for it to load up, Antonio ran a hand through his dark curly hair in a distressed manner. His eyes fell on a framed picture of Lalia he had sitting on his desk… it was of her on her first day of preschool. Her curly hair was pulled into a ribboned pony-tail, her large green eyes sparkled with excitement, and her heart-warming smile prevalent on her face. He remembered taking that picture… the little girl could hardly stand still.

Lalia definitely took more after him. She had his tan skin, his green eyes, his curly hair, as well as his innocent curiosity and enthusiasm. However, certain factors… her stubbornness, her willingness to fight (which had gotten her into quite a bit of trouble, especially last year), her defiance, and her frown resembled that of her mother's. It was both endearing and painful.

Antonio sighed shakily and reached out to take the photo. Carefully turning it over, he found the small, slightly wrinkled paper photo that he had stuck in between the outer part of the frame, and the picture of his daughter. Gently pulling it out, he turned it over and let his eyes hungrily devour it.

There she was.

A photo of Lalia's mother.

Lovina Vargas.

It was a photo taken about six years ago, right before she had become pregnant. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a messy, disheveled bun, her hazel-colored eyes were piercing, and there was that permanent scowl on her face… a defiant scowl that had stolen Antonio's heart.

Even though she wasn't smiling or expressing joy, even though she had literally punched the lights out of Antonio after this photo was taken for not giving her a proper warning, this photo was absolutely perfect. It was one hundred percent authentic and real… for it portrayed the love of his life with complete accuracy.

Lovina Vargas was not a gentle soul. No. She was a riot. A hard-assed, crazy, no-bullshit "chick with a dick" who had no qualms against scaring the crap out of men three times her size. She wasn't charming, nor was she graceful. But Antonio wouldn't have it any other way. He loved her strength, her loyalty, her realism. He loved how small she was in comparison to him, how he could just wrap his arms around her and hold her… how, after cursing him out mercilessly, she would eventually melt into his arms.

He didn't mean to ruin her life. He didn't mean to impregnate her when she was barely eighteen years old. But they had both decided to accept it and become a permanent part of each other's lives. However, Antonio couldn't help the strange feeling that Lovina was hiding something. Something extremely dark and prevalent.

And his suspicions came true, when one night… about two weeks after Lalia was born, Lovina woke him up with such frantic, harsh desperation that it made his stomach turn. She told him to take Lalia and run. To flee the continent and to "not look back." She told him to forget about her… that she had some unfinished business to take care of. And when he asked her when she would be finished so that she could come and join them… she didn't answer.

She just gave him a harsh, dark look with those foreboding eyes before turning her back to him and barking one last order to "get the fuck out of the house." That was the last time he had seen or heard from Lovina Vargas.

And for the most part, Antonio had followed her instructions. He moved to America, living a simple, quiet life with his daughter, and he made sure to keep his contact with Europe extremely limited. It was rather painful, especially for his parents who so desperately wanted to be informed of Lalia's progress, but he was always reminded of Lovina's harsh, ruthless stare and how serious she was about "staying as far away from here as possible."

But even that didn't completely deter the Spaniard.

Once the computer completely loaded, Antonio quickly logged into his email to see…

To see if he had received a response.

Anything at all…

Though it was a desperate, fruitless shot, the young 25-year-old male couldn't help but at least try. He had made accounts and joined countless "professional" forums and websites that were supposed to help in tracking lost family members. He had started this hopeless search for Lovina about a year ago, with absolutely no progress.

If he could, he would do more, but surfing the internet seemed to be the safest choice given the unknown, troublesome circumstances regarding her disappearance.

But it ate away at him. Every moment of every day, he would subconsciously wonder what Lovina was doing at that very moment. He would look at Lalia and wish that Lovi could see their daughter now and how much she had grown. He also wished that Lalia could grow up with her mother… it wouldn't be long now before his little daughter would start asking the 'mommy' questions. They were inevitable after all.

Holding his breath, Antonio clicked his inbox, only to see that that he had received no new mail apart from some junk. Letting out his disappointed breath, he ran his hand through his curly hair once again before logging out and shutting the computer off. Placing the photo of Lovi back in the frame, he stood up and tried to wipe the crest-fallen expression from his face. After all, he had a beautiful daughter out there, waiting for her papa to come out so that he could spend a Friday afternoon with her.


	2. The Absence of Safety

"Papa?"

"Si?"

"Why is the sky blue in the morning and black at night?"

"That's because the sun lights up the sky in the morning."

"Oh… papa?"

"Si, Lalia?"

"Is it true that stars are actually really big?"

"Yes. In fact, all of the stars in the sky are like the sun. In fact, some are even bigger!"

"But, if some stars are bigger than the sun, and there are so many, than why is the sky black at night?"

"Because all of these stars are way too far away to make the sky blue."

"So, that means that the sun is really close?"

"In comparison to the other stars, si."

"Oh… papa?"

"Yes?"

"Where is Heaven?"

"I can't answer that, baby. Only God knows where heaven is, and if you are a good, faithful girl, you will go there one day."

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think that mama is in Heaven?"

It was as if someone had sent a shock wave into Antonio's spine. He couldn't help but jerk from his position on the soft ground, his breath catching in his throat at his daughter's question. Thankfully, the little girl lying next to him didn't seem to catch her father's subtle freak out.

"Why do you ask?" he managed to choke out feebly.

"Everybody in my class has a mama," she said, her green eyes fixated on the twinkling stars above, a small reflective frown etched on her face. "That means that I must have one too. But she's just not with us. At church, the priest always prays for those who aren't 'with us.' He says that they are in Heaven. That means that mama is in Heaven, right?"

Antonio remained silent, his daughter's words floating in and out of his brain at a frantic rate. He knew that this would eventually happen, but he had never prepared himself for it. He was too busy trying to erase all traces of Lovina from Lalia's life… both for their safety, and for his personal mentality. But that didn't stop him from relentlessly searching for the cursed woman via internet.

"I don't know, Lalia," he answered truthfully, letting out a defeated sigh as he closed his eyes. His daughter's words triggered something within him.

What if Lovina Vargas was dead? Did he have to start looking up death records and certificates to confirm this fact? The very thought made his insides curdle.

"Oh."

The simple response relieved the Spaniard. He didn't think he could handle an interrogation centering around Lovina at the moment. In all honesty, he would most likely never be prepared to talk to Lalia about her mama.

Antonio kept his eyes on the starry sky, allowing himself a brief moment of free reflection. It had been a nice day today… eating dinner, feeding the ducks at the pond, going to get ice cream, going on a nice little walk… all of the activity was enough to keep the Spaniard's mind off of the fact that he and his little girl were missing something.

"It's late. Let's get back inside and get you to bed," he finally said softly, pushing himself from the ground and to his feet, running a hand through his ruffled curls as Lalia did the same, letting out a small yawn. Glancing at his clock, the Spaniard saw that it was already eleven-thirty PM… way past Lalia's bed time.

Once he was sure that the little girl was in bed and asleep, he could start his own personal reflection without interruption. It was something he did every night… something he needed to do despite the pain it brought him. If he didn't allow himself to think about Lovina, he knew that he would break in half.

"Chirp, chirp!" Lalia chimed, a large grin on her face despite her exhausted expression. "Papa, can you hear the crickets?"

"Si. They've been chirping for a while now, silly," Antonio answered with a smile of his own as he opened the door to the house.

"I know. I just wanted to see if you would notice. Can I sleep with the window open?" she bubbled, staying close to her father's side as they made their way into the little house.

"Si, si. Now change into your PJs and try to go to sleep. I'll crack the window open for you." Antonio let out a yawn of his own as the little curly-haired girl agreed with a dazzling smile before skipping off to do as she was told.

Closing the door behind him and locking it, Antonio rubbed his tired eyes, realizing that he was probably going to crash hard tonight. Devoting all of his energy to making sure his baby girl had the best of times today really drained his stamina, even though he had enjoyed himself as well. The Spaniard flicked the light switch on so that he wouldn't run into anything; he had to give Lalia credit for knowing her way in the dark. Luckily for him, he never had to deal with night terrors or having to purchase a night light.

He made his way to his daughter's room, opening the door and peeking in to see that Lalia was already dressed in her pink PJs, sitting atop her small bed, a grin on her face as she snuggled her rose colored bed-spread to her chin. Her room was the only colorful area of the house due to the countless number of paintings and drawings plastered on the walls, as well as the bright pink curtains, comforter, and rug. Though it was Lalia's favorite color, Antonio couldn't deny the fact that the brightness assaulted his eyes every time he stepped foot in this room.

Smiling softly at her, he walked over to the side of the bed and knelt on one knee.

"You remember to say your prayers, querida?" he asked gently.

Her green eyes widened with realization as she quickly pressed her palms together, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes reverently.

"Don't forget the sign of the cross," he commented. "Let's do it together, and I'll let you lead."

"Si… In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…" she said, her voice dripping with seriousness as she crossed herself, took another deep breath, and proceeded.

"Angel of God,

My Guardian Dear,

To whom God's love commits me here,

Ever this day,

Be at my side

To light, to guard,

To rule and guide

Amen."

"Amen," Antonio finished off after her, quickly ending the prayer with the sign of the cross. "Okay, mi poco tomate. Time to get you to bed. We'll have some more fun tomorrow, si?"

"Si," she agreed happily, though it was evident that sleep was going to consume her. Laying her head down on the pillow, she looked at her papa with drooping green eyes. "Papa?"

"Yes?"

"If mama is in heaven, do you think that she's my guardian angel?" she asked, finishing off the sentence with a yawn.

At the question, a lump formed in Antonio's throat, a strange wave of sadness passing over him as he realized just how little Lalia knew about her mother, and how little he could tell her without emotionally damaging himself.

"Maybe," he responded quietly, tucking the girl in. After making sure she was comfortable, he placed a kiss on her forehead, stood up, and quietly cracked the window open, the sound of the crickets filtering through the room, accompanied by the whooshing of the light warm breeze.

With one last look, Antonio confirmed that Lalia was already fast asleep, the sound of her even breathing reassuring the Spaniard before he shut off the light in the room, whispered a quick "Te amo," closed the door, and made his exit.

Antonio let out another yawn, feeling the exhaustion wear down on his limbs. Though he was only twenty-five, he felt like a nostalgic elderly man. Lalia's questions did not help… it made him wonder if Lovina really was dead. It would make some sort of sense, yes? She had sent he and their daughter away under questionable circumstances, and now there was absolutely no sign of her. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help but reflect on that night… the Southern Italian had seemed so panicked, so frantic, so urgent. What could've rendered Lovina to send her lover and child away to a different country without intentions of seeing them again?

Shaking his head, the Spaniard walked into the living room and to the sliding glass doors that lead to the back porch facing the woods. With a grating creak, Antonio opened the doors and stepped onto the wooden porch, taking a seat on one of the damp plastic chairs. The mild air caressed his skin, his tired eyes fixed on the woods. It was so quiet out here apart from the chirping of the crickets, and the distant sound of the small brook literally twenty feet from where he was sitting.

This really was the perfect place to raise Lalia. It was simple, healthy, beautiful, safe, and quiet. Plus, all of the colors and fascinating organisms of the outdoors sparked his daughter's already soaring curiosity. The school here was small, but good. There was plenty to do both around here and in town. He was doing fairly well in the financial department.

But sometimes, Antonio wondered what would've happened if Lovi had stayed with him. He definitely would not have moved to America, that was for sure. He and the fiery Italian never really talked about their future, apart from the fact that they were going to do everything they could to ensure the best for their daughter. Everything was just so new, so chaotic, so adrenaline-inducing… they didn't have time to properly process it like the adults they should've been, not even during the nine-month pregnancy.

However, the Spaniard believed that he and Lovi would've probably ended up living somewhere in the Spanish countryside. Though she loved Italy and felt a strong obligation towards her family, she had always talked about running away to Spain with him. The very idea made his insides flutter with warm excitement. They would've been a modest family, working hard to maintain a tomato farm, but still enjoying their lives together. He and Lovi would've had more children together, given Lalia a few siblings… maybe two or three more. Who knows? Maybe even more. His parents would've come to visit every Saturday, and they would've attended mass on Sunday. Antonio could envision it so easily in his head, and it killed him… killed him to think that that life was so close, but was now so far away.

He enjoyed his life now. Lalia was happy. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was…disappointed. Heartbroken.

Why did she send them away?

Why?

Why couldn't God be merciful and bring her to him to that they could go to Spain and live the life that he had envisioned?

Or maybe they would just stay here in Lowell, Oregon. That would work too. This place had really grown on him… there was a special place for it in his heart. If he did ever go back to his homeland, he knew that he would miss this place.

Antonio's thoughts were interrupted by a rather large cracking noise. The Spaniard blinked a few times in surprise, shaking his head and sitting up, fully alert. It sounded like someone had snapped a tree branch with their foot. Quickly dismissing the noise as an animal in the woods, he was in the midst of relaxing his muscles once again when he heard another crack. Then the sound of violent rustling…and…and… were those footsteps?

He was standing now, his heart pounding against his chest. He knew that he was probably just being paranoid… that it was probably just a wild animal minding its own business. But something felt… off. A shiver traveled down his spine as he gulped, his semi-adjusted eyes narrowing in on the ominous woods. Antonio was half-tempted to raise his voice and ask if anybody was there, but he knew that that would be one of the stupidest decisions he could ever make.

Everything seemed eerily still… as if something, or someone were holding its breath, waiting for someone to make the next move. Antonio felt watched… not even the chirping of the crickets or the soothing sound of the creek could comfort him now. He literally felt as if someone were assaulting him with their eyes.

And those eyes were coming from those woods ahead of him.

Antonio wished that he was armed. Even a kitchen knife would do. He just felt so bare out here, alone, exposed to the shadows of the darkness… a darkness that was hiding something potentially sinister and dangerous.

Even though Lalia was never afraid of the dark, Antonio was horrified of it.

You never know what could be hiding the darkness of the shadows.

Letting out a hesitant shaky breath, the Spaniard slowly backed up a few steps, wincing at the sound of the creaking boards beneath his feet. Finally reaching the glass door, he quickly plunged himself into the house before closing the door, locking it shut, and fast-walking toward Lalia's room.

He didn't know what force of nature was making him so paranoid, but he entered his daughter's room, shut the cracked window, locked it tight, and then turned toward his daughter. The sight of her sleeping peacefully eased his uneasiness somewhat, but his heart still felt as if it were about to explode from the onslaught of fear that gripped his insides. As gently as he could, he picked his daughter up, proceeded to carry her to his room. She stirred a bit at the movement, a small frown forming on her face, but other than that, she remained motionless.

Antonio didn't like the idea of his baby girl sleeping by herself tonight.

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. But he knew that for some reason, discretion and silence were the best options at this point. There would be no frantic emergency calls or sudden actions. He would keep his mouth shut, and remain in the safety of his locked house with his daughter at his side.

When he reached his room, he shut his door, placed Lalia on his bed, and then drew the window curtains shut. After a moment, he let out a shaky breath before relaxing his muscles, trying to shake off the unforgiving nervousness. He let his eyes wander to the bed where his little girl was sleeping soundly. Gulping the harsh lump in his throat, Antonio made his way to the bed and tucked her in carefully so as not to disturb her. He was glad that she was oblivious to his fear, wrapped up in her own little peaceful dreams.

The Spaniard paced a few times, knowing that it would be impossible for him to go to sleep at this point. He ran his hand frantically through his curly hair, before deciding to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing in particular as he attempted to calm himself down.

However, that failed as a loud buzz nearly made him jump two feet. Clutching his heart in fear, his attention was turned toward his phone, which happened to be placed on the bedside table, still connected to the charger. He let out an annoyed breath, wondering who the hell would be texting him right now; it's not like he knew many people around here. His contacts consisted of his parents, his boss, Lalia's teachers, and a few people he met at church.

Picking his phone up, he turned it over to see that he had a text message from an unknown number. The uneasy feeling resumed as he slid his finger over the notification, his eyes hungrily taking in the contents of the text.

His stomach dropped about ninety feet.

There was a picture of him on the porch taken about ten minutes ago.

And based on the angle of the shot, the photo was taken from the woods.

Underneath the photo was a message.

And though the message was in Italian, Antonio could decipher enough of it to understand the threat.

_We are watching you. _


End file.
